


Skyping about Dinner

by writtenhistory



Series: Skyping Stucky [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, Fluff, Goats, M/M, Skype, Skyping Stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenhistory/pseuds/writtenhistory
Summary: Bucky has dinner during one of their regular Skype conversations.





	Skyping about Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merry_rf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merry_rf/gifts).



> So I decided to make Skyping Stucky an ongoing series. It's pure fluff, short silly stories I scribble out in times of boredom. They are meant to be a little bit of fun.
> 
> This is completely blamed on Merry_rf who I gift the silliness to.

“Oh, I’m liking this new look.”

Steve ducks his head slightly, running his hand over his beard. “Really? I was thinking I should probably shave, things have been just a little hectic. Personal grooming is kind of low on the priority list right now.”

“Oh Stevie, don’t you dare.” Bucky’s voice came with a soft growl that Steve recognised, that dip in octave that always drew Steve’s attention.

“Really, I mean, seriously?” Steve makes direct eye contact with Bucky, his fingers still rubbing over the growing stubble. “I mean, Wanda says I look like a lumberjacket.”

“Oh baby, you can bring your axe anytime.”

Steve groans, dropping his face to his hands, the laugh edging towards a giggle. “Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”

“I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK. I sleep all night and I work all day.” Bucky almost sounded like he was on the verge of singing. Steve just gave him a blank and confused look in return. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll show you the clip next time you visit.”

“So one of those things that happened when we were on ice?” Steve nods. 

“Believe me, it will all make sense eventually.” Bucky’s voice still had that tone, an edge of arousal to it.

“This really does work for you, Buck?” 

Bucky grins, “Mhmm, Timber!”

“Bucky.”

Bucky laughs at the reluctant amusement in Steve’s voice. “Does this mean I get to bitch about stubble rash now?”

“My beard is soft and glossy, it will be like a furry little puppy…. And ok that’s so not an image either of us needs. Sorry.”

Bucky stands up, laughing as he disappears off screen. When he returns, he’s holding a bowl. Sitting back in place he takes a spoon and digs into the stew. “Damn Steve, that was bad, let’s put a veto on discussing cuddly animals and oral sex in the same sentence shall we.”

“Agreed,” Steve looked like he was about to continue when he got distracted by Bucky taking a mouthful of stew, licking the gravy from the back of the spoon. The look started as heated, watching Bucky’s tongue wrapped around the spoon, but then something more concerned crossed his face. “Bucky, what are you eating?”

“Stew, I made it earlier. I got a recipe from Okoye. She’s decided I need to do PT, either that or she just likes kicking white boy butt. Anyway, she told me it was her grandmother’s recipe. It’s really good.”

“That’s good Bucky. I know you’ve talked about how you need a break, that you can’t be a solider anymore, at least not right now, but staying active, keeping that muscle memory it’s a good thing.”

“I know, and training is good for me, movement promotes mental health, I’ve heard the lecture.” Bucky digs back into the stew. “Sorry, I know you mean well, and you’ve supported me in this, in my retirement, rehabilitation, whatever we are calling it.”

“Yeah, Buck. And we’ll probably discuss it later. But right now, I need you to answer a simple question, honestly.”

Bucky stops, mid-lick of his spoon, taking note of the serious tone in Steve’s voice. “Always Steve, you know that.”

“What’s in the stew Bucky?”

Bucky’s brow creases signalling his slight confusion. “Goat, potato, beans, a thick…”

“Goat! James Buchannan Barnes, tell me you aren’t eating one of our goats?”

“Um, ok, do you want the honest answer, or do you want me to say I’m not eating one of my goats.”

“Don’t get smart with me Barnes.”

Bucky grins. “Why? You think I’m cute when I do that.”

“Not when you’re eating one of *our* goats. Bucky how could you?”

“I took a goat, I butchered it, I shared it amongst a group of people, and took the leg to make it into stew. One of the other farmers is going to smoke some of the flesh, to make a sort of jerky.”

“A sort of jerky? Bucky, these are our babies, you can’t just eat one, like it’s, like it’s…”

“Meat? Dinner? Farmed produce?” Bucky offered.

“It’s not funny Bucky. You killed one of the goats. I helped raise them. When I visit, they are… family.”

“Steve, calm down. Ok forget I told you to calm down. It’s just, it’s a goat. I farm them. What did you think happened to them?”

“You milk them, you make cheese, you create mohair sweaters out of them.”

“Steve, I am living in an African country, there’s not a lot of call for warm mohair sweaters.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

Bucky shakes his head, amusement spilling forth. “Well, you are being a little ridiculous babe.”

“You ate one of the baby goats.”

“Ok Steve, one, this wasn’t one of the baby goats, I didn’t go out into the field and pick the cutest baby to turn into stew. And second, when you ask for double bacon on your cheese burger where do you think that comes from.” Bucky’s voice had lost its amusement.

“That’s different Bucky, I’ve never petting some pig, I’ve never helped you birth one.”

“Meat comes from animals Steve, it’s just a fact. I’m not caring for a zoo here, I’m farming a herd.”

“But Mathilda?”

Bucky smiles again, it’s slight and soft, but the tension eases away. “Mathilda is still galloping around the paddock, Steve. She’s a young baby. There’s a lot of life in front of her. We cull off the old and the excess males that won’t produce milk.”

Steve smirks, his eyes lightening. “Listen to you, Brooklyn boy turned goat farmer. Who would have believed it, growing up, running the streets, fighting the McMurphy boys, that you’d end up raising a bunch of goats. What would Mick say if he could see you now?”

Bucky laughs “Mick would be 114, so probably wouldn’t say a lot. But I’m sure he’s come up with some quip about ending up knee deep in shit.”

“Hold on, is goat shit like horse, can you actually get a heap enough to stand in?”

“Are we really having a discussion about goat poop?”

“Well, now I’m curious, you were the one to bring it up. I never really noticed when I visited, can’t say I was focused on paying attention to that sort of thing.”

“It’s more like pellets, if we were still those kids, laying in wait for the Murphys, they would make for great slingshot pallets, rather than flinging a bucket full at them.”

“This is a really odd conversation Bucky.”

“When are our conversations ever not, eventually, odd.”

"Just next time, Buck, when I visit, just make me fish curry, okay."


End file.
